Sons of a Samurai
by Hopeakaarme
Summary: After Nanjirou very vehemently refuses to let Ryoma move back to Japan, Ryoga starts to suspect Nanjirou has a third son. As they pursue the truth, it turns out their father has another secret as well. Rewrite of Three Samurai, prequel to Merry Birthday.
1. 1: Instinct

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.

A/N: When I first wrote _The Three Samurai_, it was mainly to illustrate a crack theory. However, ever since I wrote the sort-of-sequel, _Merry Birthday_, and started playing with the thought of more fics in the same universe, I've been wishing it wasn't such a tiny little badfic. Yesterday, I finally got a beginning, and sat down to write. ...Today, I finished what turned out to be three chapters and an epilogue, totalling at exactly 20,000 words altogether. Not bad, considering the original was barely over 1,000 words.

Prequel to _Merry Birthday_, rewrite/revamp of _The Three Samurai_. Any future fics in the universe will follow this version instead of the original.

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Sons of a Samurai

_Chapter 1_

Instinct

Ryoma would have been the first to admit that he didn't have a particularly close bond with either of his parents. He assumed they cared about him well enough, but then, his mother had never been the type to slave over the perfect school lunches and make sure he had a snack waiting when he came home. She was rather focused on her career, so much so that she chose to stay behind in America when Nanjirou decided to bring Ryoma to Japan to attend his own old school. Nanjirou, on the other hand, was rather obviously involved in his life – too much so, Ryoma might have said – but they really only ever bonded over tennis. When they talked, they talked about tennis, when they spent time together, they were playing tennis, even when they were doing apparently unrelated things like eating one or the other would usually bring up tennis before long. It was a strange thing, and sometimes even kind of annoying, but it was what he had grown used to over the years.

Ryoma had never imagined what it would be like to be without his parents. His mother was away so it really wouldn't have changed much, while his father was such an annoying, ever-present figure that it was impossible to even think about his life without the smug voice cackling right behind the corner and the sight of dark monk robes somewhere in the corner of his eye. It just wasn't a possibility.

Ryoga, of course, was another matter entirely. He was a bit fuzzy on the details, it wasn't exactly something to be discussed over a family dinner after all, but he was fairly sure there was more of a connection between his older brother and his father than just a couple of adoption papers. His mother never made a mention of it, treating Ryoga with the same kind of detached fondness she gave to Ryoma, so he supposed it wasn't too much of a scandal at least. With Nanjirou, it was somewhat different. When he had been younger, Ryoma had sometimes been jealous of the attention Ryoga got for being older and better at tennis; then he had grown and gotten better and his brother had run away from home, so there had been no reason for jealousy whatsoever. Nowadays Ryoga sometimes came for a visit, staying a day or two, never saying too much about where he was or what he was doing when he wasn't there. Nanjirou sometimes made some mentions about school and proper education that Ryoga pretended not to hear, not that they were ever made with too serious a tone. It was rather obvious Nanjirou expected both of his sons to go on a professional career to live out the dream he had once abandoned.

It was during a late night chat with Ryoga during one of those strange visits, lying on the roof and looking up to the sky where the stars were almost drowned out by the lights of the city nearby, that Ryoma first realized that might not happen.

"I just don't know," Ryoga said, taking another lick of one of the popsicles he had snatched from the freezer for a midnight snack to battle the summer heat. "I mean... I'm not as good as you, am I? We both know it. You got the better genes or whatever. So maybe you should just become the next big Samurai and I'll just... do whatever."

"But what else could you do?" Ryoma frowned, licking his own icy treat. What Ryoga was suggesting was strange, almost... blasphemous. "Sure, I beat you, but that doesn't mean anything. You can still go out and beat everyone else, right?"

"That's what you think," Ryoga said, chuckling. "...I'm a high schooler, Chibisuke. Well, would be if I ever bothered to go to school, but you get my drift. You were in your first year of middle school. If you could beat me, there's no way I could manage to get anywhere in the pro circles."

"Oh, shut up." Ryoma reached his foot to the side just enough to kick his brother lightly on the shin, drawing a slight chuckle from Ryoga. "That's just because I'm so awesome and perfect and undefeatable."

"Says you." Ryoga laughed, moving his leg just in time to avoid another kick. "...Why'd you come here, anyway? America, I mean. I thought you were doing pretty well over in Japan?"

Ryoma would have shrugged except shrugging while lying down was just all kinds of awkward, so he just rolled his eyes. "It's the old man, of course. He's the one who dragged me off to Japan in the first place, you know? And then apparently one year was enough since I managed to help his old school become the champions, which is what he didn't do in his time. Bet he was just afraid I'd be more awesome than he is."

"Would make sense, that." Ryoma could just hear the smirk in Ryoga's voice. "But... it's kind of nasty to you, isn't it? I mean, you probably made all kind of friends over there and everything... Didn't he even ask you before hauling you off for the next place?"

"When does he ever ask me about doing anything?" Ryoma asked dryly. "And yeah, well, I guess... I mean, I'm a big boy, right? It's not like I'll be crying after them or anything." Though he had to admit he could have spent a little more time with Momo-senpai. And he was curious to see how far all his senpai would go, and his opponents, and even what had become of that strange Yamabuki kid who had tripped over his feet and panicked about going blind when the headband had fallen over his eyes. A lot of strange people, over in Japan... A lot of really impressive people, too. He was yet to see an opponent as stubborn as Atobe, for example. He doubted he would, not until he got to battle the Monkey King himself all over again. Now wouldn't that be an awesome match... It would probably make him feel just as giddy as that final match against Yukimura, he was sure Atobe had also gotten better in the last year, maybe he could...

"...Oi, Chibisuke." Blinking, Ryoma realized that Ryoga was leaning over him, looking down with a somewhat concerned frown on his face. "You all right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm all right. I was just... thinking." Ryoma shook his head to clear it. Stupid thoughts. "It's just... there were some really great opponents in Japan, you know? I had some of my best matches over there..."

"...Heh. Always thinking about tennis. You're hopeless, aren't you?" Ryoga sat up, shaking his head. "The man's completely ruined you..." He glanced at Ryoma again. He looked strangely big in the moonlight, a looming shadow against the arching sky. "Oi. Your popsicle's melting."

Oh. Right. Catching a drop flowing down his fingers with the tip of his tongue, sticky and sweet and cold, Ryoma proceeded to cleaning up all of the melted juice off the popsicle. Finally, he glanced at Ryoga. "...You ever lived in Japan? Properly?" After all, aside from that whole mess on Sakurafubuki's ship, it was hardly like he knew anything about what Ryoga had done during all that time he had spent away from home.

At that, Ryoga actually laughed. "Me? Hardly. Sure, on one of those tourist trips they took us on when we were kids, to see grandparents and stuff, but... no, never really lived there. Might want to try it some day, though. Could be interesting." He grinned. "You could come stay over, too. Play against those great opponents of yours."

Ryoma had a sneaking suspicion his eyes lit up at the thought of that possibility, not that he'd have ever admitted it. "You totally should, you know," he said. "Get in touch with your roots or something."

"Oi." Ryoga rapped Ryoma's head with his knuckles, as light as Ryoma's earlier kick had been but still enough to make him grimace. "Technically, my only known roots are deep in Florida soil. My mother was born, raised and buried there."

"...Buried?" Ryoma echoed, looking over to Ryoga, frowning. He... didn't like Ryoga's tone. "That's news to me..."

"Yeah, well, it was kind of news to me, too." Ryoga sighed, sticking the end of his own popsicle into his mouth and sucking. Somehow, he managed to make such a childish gesture look almost... sad. "I kinda lost touch with her back when I... came here. Tried to find her again around last Christmas... figured it might be interesting to know what's going on with her. I did manage to find her parents, not that they wanted a whole lot to do with me." After a long lick of his quickly diminishing treat, he added, "Turns out, she died less than a year after I was adopted. Nobody ever thought to let me know."

"Oh. That's... that's just... oh." What was he supposed to say, anyway? Ryoma wasn't good with this stuff. Not with all these... emotions and such. It just wasn't his field of expertise. His field of expertise was... well. "...Wanna play tennis?"

"Thank you for the concern," Ryoga laughed, reaching his non-popsicle-holding hand to ruffle Ryoma's hair as though in apology for the earlier knuckle-rap. "Let's finish these first, 'kay? Then I might actually consider getting my ass kicked by a midget in the middle of the night."

Ryoma might have taken offense at that midget comment, but just for now, he let it slide. Instead, he grinned. "You can bet your butt on it."

"At least it's a sexier butt than yours."

"Yeah, well, anyone considering a thirteen-year-old sexy should be jailed anyway." Ryoma rolled his eyes. "Anyone who's not thirteen themselves, that is." Not that he believed any of those squealing little girls actually knew anything about sexiness.

"Oh, come on. You're legal in Japan, aren't you?" Ryoga laughed at Ryoma's grimace. "Sorry, sorry... guess I really owe you that match after that comment, eh?"

"You bet you do." Ryoma frowned deeply, licking at his popsicle furiously as though trying to make it perish in place of his brother.

He had no particular desire to lick Ryoga, after all. Just kick his ass on the court. Hard.

The idiot.

"And why can't I go back to Japan?"

"It's too cold up there," Nanjirou replied, not even looking up from his newspaper. "I like warmth better."

"You're the one who first dragged me off there," Ryoma pointed out a bit snappishly. "You grew up there! I should think you'd know if it's too cold for you in the first place!"

"Yeah, well, I needed to show that old hag Ryuuzaki," his father said non-chalantly. So much for respecting his elders, apparently. "It'd mess up your school and all."

"Then you should have let me stay there in the first place," protested Ryoma. "Bringing me back to America was just another stupid change!" Transferring between schools was always such a pain. Especially when it involved two entirely different school systems.

"Now what's this sudden enthusiasm?" Finally, Nanjirou actually managed to tear his eyes away from the newspaper. "When I first took you to Japan, you were complaining that you wanted to stay here."

"Yeah, well... I didn't know how great opponents Japan has." At least he knew what strings to pull with his father, if nothing else. "I wanna play against them again."

"You can always wait until you meet them in the pro circuit." Yeah, right, talk about planning your kids' life in advance. "Isn't that enough?"

"And if they don't plan to go pro?" Ryoma didn't even mention the possibility of himself not doing so. Mainly because, well, it was not a possibility at all.

"Then they're not really very worthwhile opponents, are they?" Nanjirou shook his head. "A no's a no. I don't want to go there anymore." A pause. "You should be practising."

"Don't go too hard on the kid," a somewhat sleepy voice said from behind them. Turning to look, they both saw Ryoga standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking pretty much like he just climbed out of bed. Running a hand through his already thoroughly messed-up hair, Ryoga added, "We played some night tennis last night. 'T was fun."

"Really?" Now, Nanjirou actually seemed interested. "And why wasn't I informed?"

"Because you were snoring hard enough to bring the roof down, maybe?" Ryoma suggested dryly. "Ryoga, did you know Mr. Japan here doesn't want to go up there because it's too cold?"

"Oh? Then he shouldn't go." Ryoga wandered over to the table and poured himself a cup of coffee, apparently completely oblivious to Ryoma's glare and Nanjirou's approving gaze. "Doesn't mean you can't go, though, does it?"

"Of course it does," Nanjirou cut in just before Ryoma managed to say, 'Of course it doesn't.' "He's just a little kid! He could hardly even manage a short trip there, and from the sounds of it he wants to go back to living over there. It's not like he can do that all alone."

"I never said alone." Ryoga raised his eyebrows before taking a sip of his coffee. "I can always go there with him."

Ryoma's eyes widened even as Nanjirou frowned. "What? You? What would you be doing in Japan?"

"Going to school, of course." Ryoga gave him a mischievous smirk that Ryoma was sure he recognized from some old photographs of Nanjirou as a young man, or a milder form of it from himself, sometimes. Adopted, sure. "I mean, I do speak Japanese, you know. Sure, my kanji could use a bit of brushing up, but I'm sure that's not too much of a stretch. And it might be fun, going to school in Japan, right? Get back to my roots and all."

"...Your roots are in America." Ryoma wasn't even sure what he should have been more amused at, the very similar route the discussion was taking to their chat on the roof the night before, or the way Nanjirou and Ryoga sounded exactly alike. He wondered just who their father thought he was fooling, anyway.

"Not anymore." Ryoga raised his eyebrows. "My Mom's dead, you know. Not Rinko-mom, obviously, but my real Mom." Ignoring Nanjirou's slightly taken aback expression, he continued, "Her parents don't want anything to do with me... so I figured, you're the only family I have, ne?" Again that very much Echizen smirk. "So it's only appropriate that I'd go to Japan to find out more about that side of my family. And it's even more important to Chibisuke, obviously. He has to get in proper touch with Japan or he'll feel all... rootless."

"You can very well go to school here," Nanjirou said. "The Japanese school would be too strict for a slacker like you. You wouldn't survive a day."

"All the more reason for me to shape up, right? And besides, Chibisuke told me you left Nanako-chan all alone in that big house. Sure, it's good because she doesn't have to pay for it, but it must be an awful lot of work to keep the house clean and everything."

"That's it, isn't it?" Nanjirou frowned in a mock-serious manner that was far too over the top to be actually taken seriously. "You're just after Nanako! That's your true plan, you vile and horrible dirty young man!"

"Better than a dirty old man," Ryoma murmured. Not that either of them was listening. Apparently he'd been dropped out of the discussion entirely at this point. Not that he was really complaining. The discussions between Ryoga and Nanjirou tended to be either very awkward or very entertaining, and this one was thankfully one of the latter ones.

"Oh, sure, I'm falling head over heels over a girl I last saw when I was ten." Ryoga rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "But hey, all the same to me, right? I can just as well go and die in a ditch somewhere. Less of an effort to me."

"That's not an option," Nanjirou said. "...Can't you go without Ryoma?"

"What exactly are you afraid of?" Ryoga looked at him questioningly. "That he'll actually have some fun? That there's somewhere he feels like he belongs? Oh, the horror..." Then, just before the discussion slipped over to awkward, he smirked. "Oh, no, I know. You're just afraid because you know he'll find someone better than you to play against."

"Preposterous!" Nanjirou declared somewhat more dramatically than was strictly necessary. "Nobody can be better than me!"

"Then what's the problem? Obviously you didn't think it too bad for him the first time around or you wouldn't have taken him there." Ryoma was rather wondering the same thing, too. Nanjirou was often eccentric, but this vehement an opposition was just strange even for him. "Between Nanako and me I'm sure we'd be able to make sure the kid's not starving or going to school naked because he forgot to eat and dress himself between tennis practices."

"I already said he's not going to Japan," Nanjirou said firmly. "I can hardly stop you if you're that stupid, but Ryoma's still a kid. And he's not going anywhere without me."

"I'd probably be better off without you," Ryoma said, finally deciding to put in his own two cents again. "You're embarrassing, old man."

"You shut up, boy." Nanjirou glared at him. "End of discussion."

"Oh, Hell." Ryoma sighed, standing up from the table, completely ignoring Nanjirou's reprimanding gaze for his language. The hypocrite. "Oi, Ryoga. Inui-senpai sent me some more videos the other day. Want to watch them with me?"

"Sure." Ryoga snatched a bun from the basket on the table, throwing one last glance at Nanjirou. "Let's let Mr. Sourpuss here stew all by himself."

"Damn straight."

"So that's Atobe," Ryoga said, looking at the computer screen with a tiny smirk. "I... see. I can see how you'd want to play against him."

"He's almost as frustrating as data players," Ryoma murmured. "Damn guy's almost impossible to take down... and without the Zone, he keeps scoring free hits just because he's somehow more insightful than others." He couldn't help but feel his own lips also twitching at the corners. "Gives one Hell of a match, though. It's really worth all the frustration."

"I can imagine." Ryoga chuckled, then watched on until they got to the end of the video. Ryoma hated to admit it but Atobe seemed to be in even better condition than before. A match against him would certainly have been very interesting. Too bad one of them was over in Japan and the other was... not. "What next?"

"Let's see..." Ryoma scanned over the list of short recordings Inui had sent him in the latest e-mail. The dataist kept him fairly well updated on the development of most of the players he had played against. Ryoma supposed it was an attempt to get him back to Japan, or something. If only he'd had a choice... He'd already watched most of them, some of them several times, even. There were still some that he hadn't gone through yet. "...Hey, here. Let's have some lighter stuff for a chance."

"Lighter stuff?" Ryoga asked, taking a bite of the remains of his bun and chewing before he added, "What do you mean?"

"Well, those others are all older guys," Ryoma explained, indicating the list. "Well, aside from Tooyama, but then I think that guy was born with a racquet in his mouth or something." Not that he had been much different, but. "But this one," he clicked on another file, "well... let's say the guy's played tennis for about a year, now."

"Oh?" Ryoga's eyebrows flew high. "And why'd you be interested in him, then?"

"Because two months after he started," Ryoma smirked, "he came up to Seigaku and challenged me." He ignored Ryoga's flaggerbastered expression and srambled back to the bed they were sitting on while watching the videos on his computer, leaning against the wall to get into a more comfortable position. "Here."

He had to admit, there had been some developement since the last bit Inui sent. He usually saved the Dan videos for last in every batch, as a 'lighter stuff' like he had put it, but he had to admit they were becoming less and less of a joke. When he'd first heard the kid was actually leading his team this year, he'd been rather surprised. By now, he had to admit it wasn't entirely amiss. For one thing, Dan had actually gotten rid of that overly large headband... well, not entirely, but he'd now wrapped it around his wrist instead of wearing it on his head. Ryoma was almost sure he'd grown just a bit taller, too, not that it was easy to tell from the video. That, or he'd simply grown more comfortable with his body, go figure. Certainly he'd managed to shed the almost fragile awkwardness of his first attempts on an actual court.

Ryoga watched the video with the same mild interest he had reserved for the others. "Good focus," he mentioned at some point, then just continued watching with the same detached interest. Not that Ryoma could really blame him for not being entirely immersed. Aside from the old Seigaku members, Ryoga had never actually met any of the people in the videos, though somehow he apparently found them interesting enough to watch along with Ryoma. A part of it was thanks to Inui, Ryoma supposed. He didn't know if it was the data or what, but somehow he actually managed to make videos of playing tennis even more interesting than usual by picking only the best bits. Like now this. Apparently Dan had gotten a proper grasp on the Twist Serve at last, judging by how he was practically running circles around his opponent in this service game. In fact, Ryoma wasn't even sure it was the Twist Serve anymore; it appeared to be some slightly evolved version. Figured the kid might have developed something in a year. He'd have to try that at some point.

Ryoga, he noticed, was... frowning. Why? "Something wrong?" Ryoma asked, glancing at him.

"Nothing... he copied this from you, right?" Ryoga asked.

"Well, yeah, the basic thing. Never taught him how to hit it quite like that, though. Gotta say it's more efficient, saves the trouble of changing hands." Not that playing with his right hand wasn't great for some smug showing-off when he made his little reveal, but it was still sometimes annoying that he could only use his left hand for a Twist Serve against so few players. It was so much more satisfying to hit it properly, with his dominant hand.

"The problem is... I've seen that serve before." Ryoga was still frowning. "The handedness, and that extra bit of spin at the end..."

"Oh?" Ryoma blinked. Now this was news to him. Sure, Ryoga was good at playing, too, but his tennis career was still quite a bit less diverse than Ryoma's own. "Where?"

"You really want to know?" Ryoga raised his eyebrows. "You've played against the guy."

Now that did narrow things down quite a bit. There weren't that many players they had both faced, being so far apart in age. "You mean, the old man?" As Ryoga nodded, Ryoma clicked his tongue. "Huh. Weird. Kinda strange for him to evolve it in the same direction on his own."

"...Indeed." Slowly, Ryoga's frown turned into a smirk. "This is a bit far-fetched, but..." He leant forward towards the desk, reaching over to tap the mouse to pause the video. Dan froze on the screen, his eyes locked on the ball coming towards him, his form awfully... familiar. And not only from the video so far. "I think I just found your ticket to Japan."

Ryoma's eyes widened as he looked at his brother. "You can't mean…"

"Oi, oi. I said absolutely nothing." Ryoga's smirk got wider. "But… even the possibility alone is pretty delicious, don't you think?" He crawled away from the bed, crossing over to the desk. Taking a snapshot of the video, he then went on to open the new picture file and click on the printing button. "…How old is this kid, anyway?"

"Dan? Same year as me. Don't know his exact age, but he was a bit of a shrimp." Not that Ryoma himself was small at all. No, Heaven forbid.

"Better and better." Ryoga waited until the printer finished, then took the still warm printout in his hands. "Nice," he said, whistling a bit. "Almost too perfect."

"You want a less perfect pose, go ask Dan," Ryoma pointed out dryly. "Of course, to do that you'd have to go to Japan."

"Oh, believe me… I do plan to." Ryoga winked at him. "Go to Japan, that is."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Ryoma was startled to hear the sharpness of Nanjirou's tone. Most of the time when he claimed they were lying, he would speak in his usual overly exaggerated tones, as though everything was just a part of some big play. This time, he just sounded… serious. Serious, and rather offended.

"I'm not," he heard Ryoga's voice replying. "It's obvious! He looks like Chibisuke, he moves like Chibisuke, and he's even evolved the Twist Serve into your further version of it!"

"Even if that were true, moves don't go in genes," Nanjirou replied. "And in any case, it's just plain ridiculous. Why would I have a son in Japan?"

"Well, you have me, don't you?" …Then, it was rather rare to hear such a sharp tone coming from Ryoga, either. Ryoma almost wanted to shudder; instead, he just pressed his ear closer to the door. He'd been rather unceremoniously shoved right out of the room as the current conversation – current argument, rather – had started. "I hardly see why you couldn't have other kids running around as well!"

"…You have nothing to do with this." …Well. Wow. That was the closest he had ever heard Nanjirou come to actually admitting he was Ryoga's father, even if it was really more an absence of denial than an actual confirmation. Probably because he wasn't in the room… "And whatever you may think of my morals… it's impossible."

"What do you mean, impossible?" Ryoga asked. "It hardly takes that much of an effort for a lecher like you to fuck a woman, right?"

"Clean your mouth while you're under my roof." Not that Nanjirou himself was usually very careful with his language. "See, the kid is Japanese, right? And you said he's Ryoma's age." After a tiny pause, during which Ryoga probably nodded or something, he continued, "Most of the year before the one Ryoma was born in, I was in America. The only time I went to Japan was when I showed Rinko off to my parents after we'd just gotten married, and if you think I'm rotten enough to cheat on my wife on my honey moon, well, you're wrong."

"And the year he was born in?" Ryoga still insisted. "What about that?"

"…You forget when Ryoma was born." Ryoma could hear Nanjirou tsking even through the door. "Sure, the Japanese school year cuts off differently, but there's still not much wiggle room there. I did visit Japan that year, but not early enough to have another kid in the same school year."

"…You're not denying you might have cheated on Rinko-mom then." Ryoga voiced Ryoma's thoughts perfectly.

"Would you believe me even if I tried?" Nanjirou chuckled with an almost… sad… tone. "You've already made up your mind about me. I get it. I probably deserve it, too. But this time, what you're suggesting is just physically impossible."

"Then what is it that makes you keep Chibisuke here?" Ryoga snapped. "Obviously there's some reason you don't want him to go to Japan. If it's not to keep him from discovering another half-brother through the tennis circuit, what is it?"

There was a long pause. Much longer than Ryoma would have liked. Then, Nanjirou spoke, louder than before. "…Get away from the door, Ryoma."

Ryoma froze. He was sure he hadn't made any kind of a sound or anything. Maybe Nanjirou was just testing…

"I told you to get away, boy." Again that frightfully serious tone, so grave it was almost foreign coming from his father. And, as Ryoma found, he was unable to disobey it.

"…All right, all right." Stepping away from the door, he made sure his steps could be heard leaving. Standing further in the hallway, he could barely catch hints of the discussion continuing behind the door, but not much else. He was tempted to sneak back to hear some of it, but something kept him from doing so. Something about that deeply serious tone just halted him when he as much as even thought about walking to the door.

Finally, the voices died out. Shortly after that, the door opened and Ryoga walked out. He had a strange expression, walking past Ryoma regardless of his questioning gaze. "Sorry, Chibisuke," he said, pausing to reach a hand to ruffle Ryoma's hair. "Guess I'll have to take you to Japan some other time." Then, without any other explanation, he continued walking down the hall.

Ryoma looked after him for a moment, puzzled. Then he turned his gaze towards the still open door. Their father was still standing in the room, looking at the picture Ryoga had apparently left behind. A bit hesitantly, Ryoma walked closer.

"…This kid." Nanjirou waved towards the picture, not turning to see Ryoma being startled at his sudden words. "What's his name?"

"…Dan Taichi, I think." Ryoma walked further, pausing at the doorway.

"I see." Nanjirou nodded slowly. "Any good?" He didn't need to elaborate on that. They both knew exactly what he meant anyway.

"Passable, I guess." Ryoma shrugged. "Really good if you consider he only started playing a year ago."

"Only a year ago? That's… pretty late compared with you." Nanjirou continued looking at the picture in a somewhat unnerving manner.

"Ano… old man?" As Nanjirou's eyes flickered towards him, Ryoma asked, "Are you sure he's not… you know…"

"Another bastard of mine?" Nanjirou finished dryly for him. "I'm sure you heard what I told Ryoga. The earliest I went to Japan that year was a short trip in early June. Even if you're Hell bent on thinking I'm a cheating pervert, that's still quite a stretch for me to have another kid in your school year."

"…Hey." Ryoma frowned. "Is everything all right? You're… acting strange."

"Well, sure I'm acting strange," Nanjirou huffed. "My sons are ganging up on frail old me and calling me all kinds of bad things. Can you blame me for acting strange?" He shook his head. "One day you two will be the death of me…"

"Sorry." Ryoma wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for. However, for some reason, he was currently actually feeling much more sorry for his behaviour than he ever did when Nanjirou put up a big show about being abused by his sons. "…Guess Japan's out, then." He hoped he didn't sound quite as forlorn as he felt. Why was he feeling like this, anyway?

"For now at least. Maybe when you're older I'll actually let you go with Ryoga. His idea wasn't half bad, actually. At least it'd get him back to school." Nanjirou shook his head. "…Though I might be up to making a little trip there some time soon. You know, so you can meet all those great opponents of yours who can't even hold a candle to your old father. If we time it right, we might even catch the Nationals."

"Really?" Ryoma's eyes widened. Sure, it wasn't the same as actually going back to his friends, but it was certainly better than nothing. "You mean that?"

"Am I the type of a cruel father who'd go about giving you false hopes like that?" Nanjirou asked, then paused. "…Wait, don't answer that."

Ryoma actually laughed. "Hey, that's great! Just… great. I say that's a promise, okay?" He grinned. "And Ryoga can come too, right?"

"If he wants to, sure." Nanjirou waved his hand. "He can even stay there to try making his advances on poor little Nanako. And then he calls me the lecher… The nerve of that boy!"

"Guess we all know where he gets that from," Ryoma murmured, and as Nanjirou gave him a sharp glance, he just grinned.

After a moment, Nanjirou returned his grin.


	2. 2: Focus

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.

A/N: Time to get a look on the other side of the equation~

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Sons of a Samurai

_Chapter 2  
_

Focus

Sengoku-senpai had once asked Dan what exactly had led him to take up an interest in tennis of all sports. Dan had not been able to answer him. It wasn't like he'd ever truly sit down and gone through all the sports to see which one interested him the most, or which one he would be best at. Indeed, considering his rather severe lack of self-confidence in his skills, he might just as well have picked polevaulting for his obsession if it were merely a choice based on his own attributes. However, his ending up watching and studying and playing tennis had been more a natural conclusion than the consequence of any logical reasons one could trace back. It might have been some match he had seen on TV as a kid, or perhaps the gushing of some class mate some time back, or just the popularity of tennis in his primary school though he'd never dared to try his hand at the sport, himself. All Dan knew was that he had always enjoyed watching tennis.

He should have thanked Akutsu-senpai, really. If it hadn't been for Akutsu, he might still have been stuck in the audience, forever watching and analyzing and playing the manager but never daring to actually play, himself. Akutsu-senpai and Echizen Ryoma, to be precise. However, even though it had been Akutsu's advice and Ryoma's example that had finally led him to actually picking up the racquet for himself, Dan liked to think it had felt rather... natural... in his hand the first time he had picked it up with the intention to actually play. The racquet just... fit. He had no words to describe it properly, certainly no accurate data to analyze his feelings; all he could tell was that he enjoyed playing even more than he enjoyed watching, that he got a thrill from the feeling of running across the court to meet the ball that was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It made his smiles even brighter, and as his senpai claimed it made his eyes shine; certainly it helped him push on with training even as he felt like falling over and dying some days.

This was not one of those days. This was one of the lighter days, meant to keep himself from driving himself too far even as they were preparing for the next step of the tournament. After all, he would be no help to his team if he forced himself to train inhuman amounts only to be incapacitated in the actual match due to over-exerting himself. He would rather keep his training on a more balanced level; it was certainly better for his still rather troublesome stamina, anyway.

This was not one of the days he ran until his legs refused to take another step, no; this was a day of visiting the street courts with no true aim or purpose, playing a few games against some opponent or the other and then stepping down to make room for others. It was better for his data gathering, anyway. He was very bad, even disastrous at gathering data while he played; certainly, his ability to focus was something of a strength, but it could sometimes get even frustrating. Not that he ever noticed it during the match, no. While he was playing, he hardly knew anything else but his opponent and the next shot.

Right now he was just sitting in the stands, watching the current game on the doubles side of the street courts. It was rather interesting, really, especially considering the players on one side of the match were from a nearby school he might have even called the nemesis of Yamabuki. Both boasted their excellent doubles players, and being almost fated to face each other every year in the tournaments, they had developed a rivalry that had very little of the friendly tone he sometimes observed in the dealings of other schools such as Seigaku and Hyoutei. Yamabuki had already beaten said school in the district preliminaries, and then again in the district tournament, but the second time had already been a stretch. Besides, he knew it was only a matter of time before Nabarayuki struck back. Perhaps his senpai didn't pay much mind to the rather impressive animosity Nabarayuki's main doubles pair was developing against them, but then his senpai wouldn't be there to face them the following year. Dan would still be there, though, and he didn't exactly want to be unprepared.

Something cold touched his temple, and he yelped. Turning to look, he was shocked to find Akutsu standing next to himself. The cold object that had startled him was a can of Ponta held in his senpai's hand, fresh from the vending machine, judging by the temperature. "A-Akutsu-senpai!"

"Pay some attention, kid," Akutsu said, an almost amused smirk on his lips as he flopped down on the stands next to Dan. He had a can in his other hand, too, this one being some iced coffee. As he still continued to hold out the can of Ponta, Dan finally realized it was meant for him, snatching it for himself. "You looked pretty damn dazed there for a moment."

"Yeah, well, I was just thinking about next year desu." Dan opened the can, smiling at the sharp pop and the following soft hiss that promised cold, cold sweetness. "Nabarayuki'll be out for our blood."

"Now that's for damn sure," Akutsu laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees even as he took a sip of his own coffee. "You practically beat their captain to the court. Way to make me proud, Taichi."

Dan flushed at that remark. "I didn't mean to hurt him like that," he murmured. "I was sure he'd know how to dodge the serve by then..." He honestly had thought so, too. Much though he did admire Akutsu, he didn't exactly approve of his senpai's occasional tendency to cause physical harm to his opponents. Not that he ever aimed his shots to hurt Dan, of course.

"Of course you were. You're too damn nice for your own good." Akutsu ruffled his hair, though, reassuring Dan that he didn't mean his words in a hostile manner. "It's just as well, though. They made your doubles one look pretty damn foolish on the court."

"I know." Dan grimaced as he remembered the match Akutsu was referring to, now. It had been an absolute shame, almost on par with the legendary Momoshiro-Echizen doubles. "I certainly let Kita-senpai and Akana-senpai hear just how badly they failed... I really don't know what was wrong with them. I mean, they're supposed to be our best doubles pair, and they give me that? Against Nabarayuki of all teams? Even I play better doubles, and I'm a singles player through and through!"

Akutsu laughed again. "That you are," he then admitted, smirking. "Not that you could ever be better than me, of course."

"Of course." Dan's lips twitched a bit. "...At least not until I reach Echizen-kun's level."

"Oi. Just because I told you to aim for him doesn't mean you can say his name in my presence." Akutsu may have been scowling, but the look in his eyes told Dan he was anything but serious. There was that hint of thrill that almost made Dan jealous of Echizen-kun... the thrill of a challenge, something Akutsu very rarely managed to find for himself. Dan certainly hoped he could have put that look in his senpai's eyes, but alas, he was not good enough for that. Not yet.

They watched the endless match continue on in silence for a moment. The Nabarayuki pair won several games, now, their opponents changing one by one, each ground to the court as though they were just bugs to be kicked aside.

"The lucky bastard said you'd been upset about something a while ago." Akutsu's eyes didn't stray from the match, though Dan doubted he was actually all that interested.

"He did?" Not that he could fool Akutsu-senpai. Akutsu-senpai saw right through him, well, in certain matters anyway. In matters of a certain nature, he certainly seemed blind... or perhaps he was just pretending for Dan's benefit. Either way, Dan quite preferred his senpai being oblivious. As he would have now, too... but he doubted Akutsu-senpai was just going to drop the subject.

"Yeah." Akutsu tilted his head back to get the last drops of his coffee, tongue reaching out to lick the last drops from the cold metal rim. Dan swallowed. "Said he'd dropped by Yamabuki to see practice and you'd been roaring like some pathetic runt of a lion."

"I rather doubt those were Sengoku-senpai's exact words desu." Dan shook his head, looking down at his own half-finished Ponta. It was raspberry, his favourite. Whether Akutsu-senpai was aware of that or had just picked by random, he didn't know.

"That's not the bloody point and you know it, kid." Akutsu elbowed his side sharply enough to make Dan wince. "You don't bark at your team without a reason. Sometimes not even when there is a reason, the bloody goody two shoes you are. So," his eyes finally flickered towards Dan, "who do I need to kill?"

"Nobody desu." Dan sighed, taking a small sip of his drink. It was still cold, though not exactly as chilling as it had been right after he'd opened it. "It's just... stuff."

"What stuff? Has to be pretty serious to affect you." Akutsu shook his head, eyes returning to the courts. "You were probably born with that stupid grin on your face."

"Maybe that's exactly the problem," Dan murmured darkly, doing his best to ignore the new glance he gained with this. "Should not have been born at all..."

"And what's that?" Akutsu asked, his tone unusually soft. "Never heard you be quite that gloomy before."

"Ah, it's nothing." Dan quickly shook his head, not that he expected it to have any effect. Akutsu-senpai could be rather stubborn sometimes.

"The Hell it's nothing." Akutsu turned half towards him. "Taichi. What'd you just say?"

"It's just... my parents have been fighting lately desu," Dan sighed. "...About me."

"About you?" Akutsu raised his eyebrows. "What's that mean?"

"Just... we had this family meeting a couple of months ago, right? For my grandmother's birthday. And, well, one of my aunts said some... stupid stuff desu." He grimaced. It really wasn't worth any consideration, anyway. Said aunt had always been a bit nasty, much though he hated to think something like that about a relative.

"Stupid stuff?" Akutsu echoed. "Like what? That you shouldn't have been born?"

"...No." Dan raised his eyes, looking out to the court. Nabarayuki's current opponents were really quite foolish, he decided. He could have easily returned that serve, and if he could do it, anyone else certainly could. "That Dad's... not my dad. Because I supposedly don't look like him desu..." It just didn't make any sense, anyway. Sure, he had very little resemblance to his father, but so what? Not everyone was a carbon copy of their parents.

"Oh, isn't that bloody precious." Akutsu leant back on his hands, now, looking up to the sky. "And now he's convinced you aren't his, eh? That's just damn foolish, even if that were true. If he's raised you as his this far, it's not about damn genes any more. Never mind being your dad, he's got no right to just suddenly say you aren't his."

"...Akutsu-senpai." Dan couldn't help but look at his senpai, now. There was just something... strange... about Akutsu's voice. And, well, he did know about the older boy's background. "What do you mean?"

"Does it matter what I fucking mean?" Akutsu shook his head. "Parents and kids are not about genes, you know. Just because someone's related to you by blood doesn't mean they're any kind of parent material." He chuckled somewhat bitterly. "I should know."

"...I'm sorry." Dan lowered his eyes.

"What the fuck for? Not like you're my father." Akutsu's laughter almost resembled a bark, now. "You're not enough of a bastard for that."

"I'm still sorry." Dan... didn't know what to do, really. He wasn't too good at this sort of thing. He usually did quite well in reading other people's reactions and emotions, but addressing them was quite another thing. It was easy enough to be happy with someone, or reassure them or even scold them; comforting someone as unapproachable as Akutsu was another matter entirely. He might have tried a hug, except he suspected Akutsu would hit even him if he tried to pull something that sappy in public.

"Che. Not exactly your problem." Akutsu glanced at Dan, his eyes then sliding over to Dan's tennis bag. Reaching a long arm to catch the shoulder strap, he pulled the bag to himself right over Dan's knees. "You've got a new bag." It wasn't a question. Somehow, Akutsu-senpai always noticed that kind of things, even if he never seemed to be paying attention.

"Ah, yeah." Dan smiled a bit sheepishly. "The old one was a bit worn, and besides it was getting too small."

"Really, now." Without asking for any permission, Akutsu pulled open one of the zippers, then drew out a racquet. "This is new, too."

"New enough you haven't seen it yet." Dan couldn't help but smile as he watched Akutsu balancing the racquet on his palm. Perhaps his dear senpai wasn't quite as interested in tennis as he was, but sometimes Akutsu did show some appreciation for it, which made Dan feel strangely warm in the inside. After all, the first time he had seen Akutsu, the older boy had been playing tennis. Well, practising, in any case.

"Seems... passable." Akutsu continued looking through the bag. Dan didn't think to protest. Not like there was anything particularly sensitive or embarrassing, there. Just ordinary stuff like his racquets and balls, his water bottle, his notebooks...

Wait. His notebooks. Dan opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it shut as he realized he didn't know what he could say. There wasn't really any remark he could have made that wouldn't have seemed suspicious, now was there? It wasn't like Akutsu-senpai would be interested enough to go looking through his data, anyway. At most, maybe look at the covers.

That was indeed what Akutsu was doing right now, having pulled a couple of his notebooks out of the bag. "I thought I told you not to do something this embarrassing again," he said with a small scowl, looking at the notebook titled simply, "Echizen Ryoma."

"You did desu," Dan replied, reaching out a hand to snatch his notebook away. He didn't really think Akutsu would rip it apart, his senpai had pretty much come to accept his data gathering habit though he still sometimes made fun of it, but... he'd just rather not take the chance, however small the risk might have been. "This is not for you, though. This is for me."

"Same fucking difference." Akutsu's lips curled into a smirk, now, which somehow made Dan feel relieved. Sengoku-senpai sometimes said that a smirking Akutsu promised no good to anyone, but Dan certainly preferred it to his scowls and frowns. "Is that stuff even any good?"

"It's what helped me score my very first game against you." Dan stuck out his tongue, then yelped as Akutsu's hand suddenly shot forward, two fingers pinching his tongue. "Ow! Leff go!"

"Don't stick it out unless you plan to use it," Akutsu said, still smirking. Thankfully, he let go of the tongue and turned to look at the courts just in time to miss the flush that took over Dan's cheeks. "...Okay, now that's just pathetic. They could have just as well been just standing there. Those guys may be good, but not that good."

"Indeed." Dan sighed, then rolled his eyes. "They've been playing for so long without losing, I guess people are just too afraid of them to play properly."

"Che. The longer they play, the more tired they get, so the more mistakes they make. By now, it shouldn't exactly take Golden Pair to beat them." Akutsu paused. Then, his gaze flickered towards Dan again. Dan looked back, thankful that the flush on his face had already cooled down. "...Oi. Kid. What was it you told your own pair of fools, again?"

"...That even I would play better doubles than they did in that match desu." Okay. If he was correct about where his senpai was going with this...

"I'd say... it's time to show those idiots not everybody is fucking afraid of them." There was a decidedly vicious hint in Akutsu's smirk, now. Almost unconsciously, Dan found himself mirroring the exact same expression. Oh, yes. He was indeed not afraid of anyone. Not even Nabarayuki's prized doubles combination.

Not if Akutsu-senpai was going to be at his side.

*

Dan clapped his hands sharply to gain people's attention. "Okay, everyone, time to wrap it up!" he called out. "That was great desu~ Though first years, you should concentrate more on your forms next time," he added admonishingly. "Tamaya-kun, Shirino-kun, Ooka-kun especially. You get to gather the balls for your performance~ I don't want to see such sloppy work again desu!" He could have also told the regulars they needed to train on their own, but that would have been rather redundant. He'd already made them rather precise practice menus with Banji. Anyone who didn't understand the importance of being in their top form for the upcoming tournament didn't deserve to be a regular anyway.

"Aw, you're so harsh on the poor boys," Muromachi commented as they watched the three slightly flustered first-years rush to gather the balls even as everyone else started heading towards the club room. "Who'd have known our sweet little Dan-kun is capable of such cruelty?"

"Oh, shut up, Muromachi-senpai." Dan fought down the flush that tried to climb onto his cheeks. "You saw them, too, didn't you? They haven't improved one bit since spring. They're slacking off on their training, too." He tsked, shaking his head. "If they're going to just stand around and chat, they can just as well join the cheerleading club desu."

"Or become managers," Muromachi quipped with a little smirk.

"Oi. I at least never claimed to be a player back then," Dan said, raising his eyebrows. "All they can do is whine about how it's so unfair they have to concentrate on basics while the older students get to actually play. And don't forget I can make you run laps, too," he then added with a tiny grin. Not that he would have. He wasn't exactly going to punish his senpai for such a little bit of teasing.

"Ah, it really warms my heart to see you growing up so fast," laughed Muromachi. "...Where's Banji, anyway? I thought he was supposed to be here today. It's not like him to leave us alone with the practice on such a short warning"

"I heard he had some important meeting to go to," Dan replied, shrugging. "Something about Ryuuzaki-san and 'the old brat' and other such nonsensical things. He wasn't exactly clear when he called me this morning."

"At least he bothered to call," Muromachi chuckled as they started heading towards the club room, too. "Last year, Minami-buchou sometimes didn't know if Banji was going to be in practice until it was time to start. If even then."

"Yeah, well, that might be because I'm a bit more inquisitive than Minami-buchou." Dan flushed slightly even as he chuckled. "I suppose he just got tired of me always calling him to make sure he's going to be here..."

"Probably." Muromachi ruffled his hair, gaining a yelp from Dan. What was it with everyone wanting to mess with his hair like he was some kind of puppy? It was hard enough to keep even borderline tidy as it was. "Come on, buchou. You don't want to be the last one, now do you?"

"Of course not, as long as I can push the lock-up duty on you." Dan laughed at Muromachi's grimace. "...I was actually planning to head for the street courts, though, so I'll just snatch my things." Navigating the usual post-practice crowd of sweaty half-naked boys in the locker room with the disinterested attitude of someone rather accustomed to having bare chests shoved at his face -- damn his stupid body for still being the shortest, anyway -- he finally made his way to his own locker. Its door was bent in, thanks to one of Akutsu's little bouts of rage the year before. Nobody had exactly protested when Dan had claimed Akutsu's old locker. Dan had even caught Kita-senpai telling some first-years that it was cursed by a haunting spirit consisting of pure rage. Apparently anyone but Dan who even came close to the locker would risk incurring the wrath of the supposed ghost. It was absolutely ridiculous, of course, and he had told the first-years as much, but he had to admit the crowd was usually a bit thinner around his locker.

It didn't take long for him to gather his things, after which he again pushed his way to the other side of the room, utilizing such things as a sharp voice and a very effective elbow technique Kita had already dubbed "the buchou aura" to clear the way as his rather unimpressive frame often failed to accomplish the task. Breathing a sigh of relief as he finally got outside, he glanced towards the three first-years still gathering up at the courts, then headed towards the school gates.

Someone was already there.

Dan blinked at the strange figure as he first caught sight of him in the distance. It was someone decidedly taller than an average middle schooler, yet it couldn't be any of his former senpai, either, not with the lack of a school uniform. Perhaps it was the big brother of one of the players... but he couldn't recall any of them getting picked up by a brother before. Now wasn't this curious.

Walking closer, he realized the young man seemed oddly familiar. Dan certainly hadn't seen him before, but something about his features resembled... someone. He couldn't exactly put a finger on it, but... ah, well. It wasn't like it had anything to do with him, anyway. He really should learn to control his data side better. The man was completely unrelated to him, so there was no reason to analyze him so closely.

Seeing him approach, the man made a mock-salute, smirking. "Yo. Taichi Dan?"

Dan blinked. ...Okay, maybe not exactly unrelated. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"I should hope so." Leaning against the side of the gate, the man tilted his head to the side. There was an obviously foreign accent to his Japanese, not that it really surprised him after the opposite order of his name. "I've got it in good confidence my darling little brother has made plans to meet with you here, so I was hoping to catch him."

"Ano... excuse me, but I have no idea who you are." Dan blinked again. Nobody certainly had come to 'meet with him,' not outside the regular club, and practice could hardly be called 'plans to meet'. "What's your little brother's name?"

"Oh, the unfairness of the world!" the man wailed, dramatically raising an arm to his forehead. "He hasn't even said a word about me... or... wait." Lowering the arm, the man looked at him in a somewhat more serious a manner. "Has he even shown up?"

"I might be better prepared to help you if I knew who you are looking for desu." Dan tried his best to stay patient with this strange foreigner. He had a feeling he should have been able to figure it out himself; the resemblance was so obvious. It was almost on the tip of his tongue...

"Dan-buchou?" Turning to look, he saw some of the quickest club members had paused on their way out of the school grounds, looking at him with a frown. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything's just fine, don't worry about it." Dan gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile, waving them off before turning towards the man. "So, mister, if only you could tell me a name or something..."

"Oh, yeah, sorry, sorry." Finally the man pushed himself away from the side of the gate, standing up straight. "Forgive my manners. I'm Echizen Ryoga, yo. You can call me Ryoga." Again that mock-salute. "Has Ryoma-chan showed up here?"

Echizen? "…Echizen Ryoma?" Dan's eyes flew wide. "Echizen-kun is in Japan?"

"Well, unless he's managed to flee from the country since I last saw him in the morning, yeah." The man's smirk turned into a rather friendly grin. "So, how about it? Seen my darling baby brother? I suppose not, if you didn't even know he's here, but…"

"Well, he certainly hasn't come to meet me," Dan said, frowning a bit. Why would Echizen-kun want to meet someone like him, anyway? "Except… wait just one bit." Now that he thought about it, he was sure he'd seen someone in that one spot… There was a place where Akutsu-senpai sometimes sat to watch the practice, not that he'd ever admit it, of course. It was just enough out of the way that it was hard to see anyone sitting there, but Dan had by now come so accustomed to looking for the subtle signs that he could usually tell if someone was there. He was fairly certain there had been someone there today, too, but as Akutsu usually stepped forth sooner or later and nobody had showed up properly this time, he'd assumed it wasn't anyone interesting.

Echizen-kun. Oh. Wow.

Dan started walking back towards the courts, not even noticing that he broke out into a half-run at some point, any more than he realized Ryoga was settling into a step beside him. Right now, he only cared about checking that one particular spot.

He wasn't exactly sure whether to be happy or just amused as he finally reached the slightly shadowy spot. There was indeed another boy there, lying on the ground, cap pulled over his face. Apparently Echizen-kun was sound asleep.

"Well, isn't that precious," Ryoga laughed. "Wookit the widdle boy all asleep here on his lonesome…" Walking to his brother's side, he nudged him with his foot. "…Oi. Wake up."

It took some nudging, but after some sleepy grumbles Echizen-kun finally deigned to tilt his cap up to glare at the offending foot. "…What's it?" he growled.

"Echizen-kun!" Dan couldn't help but exclaim. He certainly hadn't expected to find one of his idols snoozing away on Yamabuki grounds. "When did you come to Japan?"

"A day ago. Or two. Not sure. It's kinda hard to keep track of it when I spend most of my time not murdering two idiots." Yawning, Echizen-kun sat up, lightly hitting Ryoga's leg with his fist. "…What's the idiot doing here?"

"I came here to find you, obviously," Ryoga replied cheerfully. "You did say you were going to pay a visit, you know. I never knew tennis practice around here is so boring to watch, you'd fall asleep!"

Dan felt his stomach drop, just a bit. He supposed he couldn't really blame Echizen-kun for finding their practice boring… after all, he was on such a high level, certainly he wasn't interested in such trifle play by amateurs…

"Shut up. Look, you're making the kid all miserable." Echizen rubbed his eyes, glancing at Dan. "Nah… it wasn't too bad, I suppose. Too much doubles, though."

"Yeah, well, we were concentrating on doubles today," Dan replied, feeling slightly flustered. "It is what we're known for, after all." He couldn't help but smile a bit. "Not all of us can be known for simply decimating every opponent without fail…"

"Damn straight." Echizen smirked before yawning again and stretching a bit. "So… how's things around here? Akutsu still as psycho as before?"

"Ah, things are just great!" Dan smiled brightly. "Seigaku's doing really well in the tournaments, everybody's talking about how they might take two wins in a row, and even the high school –"

"I know about Seigaku," Echizen interrupted him, pushing himself up to stand. He had grown since Dan had last seen him; not too much, but grown nevertheless. "Inui-senpai keeps me updated. I asked about Yamabuki, idiot."

"Now who's making the kid miserable?" Ryoga murmured, but Dan barely even registered the words. All he could do was pretty much stand and stare at Echizen. Echizen-kun was actually interested?

"Ano… we're still in the tournament, too." He grinned brightly. "We're just getting ready for the National Tournament! I just hope we do well… I'd hate to not even make it as far as senpai-tachi did," he added with a slightly softer tone.

"Yeah… you're the captain now, eh?" Echizen chuckled a bit. "Suppose you're at least more memorable than the last one…"

"Oi." Dan frowned. However good a player he might have been, he couldn't allow Echizen-kun to insult his senpai. "Minami-buchou was a good captain! Just… not very memorable, no."

"Never said he wasn't a good captain," Echizen said with one last yawn. "Just that he was pretty plain. And, well, you're at least too loud to ignore."

"I try my best," Dan said, not taking offense at the last comment. "…And about that question… Akutsu-senpai's not really a psycho. Never has been. He's just… temperamental."

"Whatever you say, fan boy." The comment was accompanied by a smirk from Echizen. It was now pretty clear what the resemblance was he had spotted in Ryoga. Dan almost wanted to kick himself for not seeing it before. There were some differences in things like their eyes and the way they carried themselves, but when they smirked, the two brothers looked almost identical. Well, save for the size difference, obviously. "…You doing anything right now?"

"Ano… well, nothing special… I was going to go to the street courts to see if I find anyone to play against desu." Dan adjusted his tennis bag on his shoulder. "The Nationals are in just a couple of days… I obviously need more training than just the club practice desu."

"Great." Echizen grinned. "You're playing a match against me." It wasn't a question.

For a moment, Dan was simply stunned. Did he hear correctly just now?

"Well, if you really don't want to…" Echizen said after a moment of silence.

"No, no! I mean, yes! I mean… of course I want to desu!" Dan felt his cheeks flushing again, though this time it was more due to pure enthusiasm than embarrassment. "I'd love to! Though I doubt I'll be that interesting an opponent…"

"Well, I already dropped by Hyoutei High yesterday. Figured you'd be a good change of pace after the Atobe idiot." Echizen smirked. "So don't worry… if you're as abysmal as before, I just get to relax."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I like to think I've gotten better since then, though I'm hardly as much of a challenge as Atobe-san," Dan laughed. "But I'll let you be the judge of that desu~"

"Great." Ryoma smirked, then glanced at Ryoga. "…If you absolutely want to hang around, you can play referee for us."

Ryoga nodded. "Got it, baby brother~" Then, he winked at Dan. "Give the brat some Hell, eh?"

Damn it, he was never going to get rid of this blush at this rate… "…I'll try my best desu."

And he certainly would. For Akutsu-senpai's sake, if nothing else.


	3. 3: Experience

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.

A/N: Akutsu gets protective~

* * *

Sons of a Samurai

_Chapter 3  
_

Experience

Watching the two boys play, Ryoga had to admit he had seen worse performances. It was certainly clear that Dan still wasn't anywhere near Ryoma's level of skill, but he could have never guessed the boy had only been playing for a year, either. He could also tell Ryoma wasn't playing at his very best -- there were no doors opened to Muga or anything -- though he also wasn't entirely slacking off. For a relative beginner, Dan certainly deserved every point he got.

Finally, though, he had to call the match as the last ball soared just inches past Dan's racquet, bouncing off to hit the metal link fence. "Game, set, and match," he called out, resisting the urge to clap his hands in an idle applause. "Won by Echizen Ryoma... Six games to three."

"Not too shabby," Ryoma said, actually grinning. Apparently the match hadn't been entirely torturous to him, either. "You're still mada mada dane, though."

"...Eh?" Dan blinked, then shook his head as though to clear it. "...It's over already? I didn't notice..."

"Yeah, sorry to say." Ryoma smirked, tapping his shoulder with his racquet. At Ryoga's questioning gaze, he just tilted his head a bit. "Dan here gets a bit too involved in the match sometimes... the first time we played, he didn't even realize we were at the match ball before I had already won. He probably doesn't know the score here, either."

Ryoga blinked. He'd occasionally thought the boy wasn't reacting in a timely fashion to his calls, but hadn't thought any more on it. After all, he certainly had enough in his hands just dealing with Ryoma. But if that were true... well. It was certainly some rather impressive focus, in that case.

"No need to mock me for it," Dan said, pouting just a bit. He really looked far cuter than a guy should have had any right to look. "And you won anyway, didn't you?"

"Of course." Ryoma's smirk got just a bit wider. "...Though you're not exactly as mada mada as you were a year ago."

"Well, I should certainly hope!" Dan wiped sweat from his forehead with the band he wore twisted around his wrist. Walking up to the net, he then offered his hand for Ryoma to shake. "That was a great match, Echizen-kun~ Thank you for playing with me desu!"

"Don't thank me, thank my old man," Ryoma said. "If he hadn't dragged me off to Japan, I wouldn't have to find something to pass my time with." Yeah, right. Because he'd certainly had been so very reluctant to come, hadn't he...

Ryoga just smirked in bemusement, shaking his head. "You both done?" he asked then nodding towards the side of the court. "I believe there are others waiting to use this."

"Ehh, let them wait," Ryoma said at the same exact moment as Dan started to make some hurried apologies. Well. It certainly was clear which one's behaviour was cuter. "You remember the bet, Dan?"

"It wasn't as much a bet as a promise, I'd think," Dan chuckled as they finally walked to the side of the court, freeing it up for the other interested players. "After all, there wasn't much of a doubt about who would win desu."

"You still agreed to it." Ryoma smirked. "You owe me a drink now."

"Now, now, let's not get childish." Ryoga laughed. Not that he had expected anything else. The sole reason they had come to the public street courts, instead of using Yamabuki's courts that Dan certainly had every right to utilize as he saw fit, being the captain, was because there was no vending machine with Ponta anywhere near Yamabuki. Honestly, his brother was just plain addicted. "Let's say I'll play the responsible adult or something for once and buy you both Ponta, okay?"

"You don't have to, Ryoga-san," Dan said, blinking. "After all, I did promise."

"Oh, shut up." Ryoga gave him his most charming smile. "You are right; it was rather obvious Chibisuke was going to win from the start. Just consider it a reward or something." He winked. "It's not every day I see my brother failing to return a Twist Serve." ...Even if said Twist Serve still made him feel rather uncomfortable. Regardless of what Nanjirou had said, and how logical it was all things considered, he still didn't know what to think about a random kid somehow evolving a tennis move the exact same way their father had.

"...Eheh." Dan seemed a bit embarrassed, scratching the back of his head. "I kind of got lucky with that one desu..."

"Oh, shut up." Ryoma rolled his eyes, reaching a hand to grasp on Dan's shoulder and pull him down to sit beside Ryoma himself. "If you go downplaying your successes like that, it makes me look bad. You're not Sengoku, are you? So don't say you got your points just on a fluke."

"Ah, sorry, Echizen-kun!" Dan said hastily, looking mortified at the idea that he might have implied mere luck was enough to score against Ryoma. "I didn't mean to --"

"Don't panic. It's not cute." Ryoma smirked a bit, then pointed at Ryoga. "Oi, you. Get us drinks."

"As you wish, Your Highness." Ryoga bowed mockingly. "Any special wishes?" As though he hadn't already known what Ryoma would want.

"Grape Ponta for Echizen-kun," Dan said instead, making Ryoga blink in surprise. "And raspberry for me."

"He imagines he's a data player," Ryoma sighed, rolling his eyes again as he pointed towards Dan with his thumb while his other hand took his ever-present cap from his head. Raising a hand to fluff his sweaty hair, he added, "Don't worry about it. Just run along. That's a good boy."

Ryoga chuckled a bit as he headed towards the closest vending machine. Thankfully, Ryoma always had his own ways of being cute. His very snarky and annoying ways, but still.

He didn't take very long to get the drinks, but by the time he got back, the two kids had somehow already had the time to fool around. Ryoma had thrown his own jacket on Dan's shoulders and was now fitting his cap on the feebly protesting boy's head. Ryoga swallowed as he watched the two. Earlier, during the match, he'd sometimes thought he caught some glimpses of familiarity in the way Dan moved, but this... with the cap on his head and a slight glare in his eyes, he could have almost passed for Ryoma's twin.

But it was impossible, right? Nanjirou had told them so. The boy's form and moves were similar because he was copying Ryoma on purpose, and obviously Ryoma would move similarly to Nanjirou... and he was just imagining this similarity. Yeah, that was it. He was just overthinking it.

"Now which one of you gets which drink?" he asked, managing somehow to summon a grin on his face. "Let's see, the one with the cap wanted the grape..."

"Shut up and give it here." Ryoma smirked, reaching out a hand to snatch the drink from him. "Thanks." He glanced at Dan. "He kinda looks cute like that, doesn't he? Think the old man would like to adopt him, too?" So very typical of Ryoma, acting bratty about such a matter… Ryoga suspected this was the main reason Ryoma had wanted to play against Dan, too. Just to see if they were just imagining the similarities.

"I don't look cute," Dan protested, flushing a bit. Accepting the can of raspberry Ponta from Ryoga with a quick nod and a mutter of thanks, he added, "And I don't really look like Echizen-kun, either… Do I, Ryoga-san?"

"There's a passing resemblance," Ryoga said diplomatically. Better not get too caught up in this net. "And drop the 'san', please. I'm not exactly used to things like that."

"I'll try, Ryoga-san." Judging by Dan's serious expression, he wasn't even joking. Heh. Typical Japanese.

Ryoga was just opening his own drink, trying to think of something to say to distract them from the topic, as someone brushed right past him. Before he could say anything or react in any other manner, the person had marched right up to Ryoma and Dan. With one violent move, he had snatched the cap from Dan's head and flung it away. "The fuck are you doing, Taichi?"

"Oi!" Ryoma exclaimed, standing up and glaring at the boy. "That's mine!"

"You think I don't damn well know, you bloody brat?" asked the older boy, sneering down at Ryoma. He was very tall for a Japanese, looking like a thug. He was wearing a high school uniform with its sleeves rolled up, only the tiny pin on the collar marking him as a first year instead of someone they had just forgotten to graduate, tall and muscular as he was. His hair was stuck up in a rather peculiar style, his eyes narrow as he glared at Ryoma. "Don't get your dirty stuff on Taichi. The kid's enough of a mess as it is without smelling like you."

"No reason to get all lovesick at me just because Dan borrowed it," Ryoma spat. Well, apparently his brother at least had spirit... though whether this was the right moment to show it, Ryoga rather doubted. "Your mancrush is showing, bad boy."

"Why, you --!" Akutsu raised his fist. Now, Ryoga was about to step in; nobody was going to harm his brother if he could help it. However, he was beat to it by someone else suddenly standing between the two, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Akutsu-senpai!" Dan exclaimed, sounding rather agitated. "Stop that! Don't get into a fight just because he's teasing you desu!"

"...Che." Akutsu lowered his fist, but only a bit. "Get out of the way, Taichi."

"No, I won't." Dan looked awfully pale, but he stood firmly, looking defiantly at Akutsu. Well. Apparently he wasn't lacking courage at least, though he certainly seemed scared. Whether he was scared for himself or for someone else, though... well, that was another thing entirely.

"Okay, that's enough." Ryoga finally stepped in, rather gently pushing Dan out of the way and behind himself. The boy didn't really protest, though Ryoga did catch a glimpse of him biting his lip. "You... Akutsu? Get away from here."

"Shut the Hell up." Akutsu just glared at him, apparently with no intention of backing down. What was this kid, sixteen? Well, just because he was taller than Ryoga didn't mean he could just act however he wanted. Certainly not towards Ryoma. "You can't order me around."

"Like Hell I will." Ryoga stepped closer, eyeing him menacingly. "Nobody acts like that towards my brother."

"Yeah, well, nobody causes trouble to Taichi and lives to tell about it." The glare of the golden eyes got even sharper. Ryoga wasn't sure how to interpret it, any more than he was sure how to interpret the words. How exactly had they been causing trouble to the kid? All he could recall doing was Ryoma playing tennis with him and then himself buying drinks for them all. Neither of those certainly qualified as causing trouble.

Ryoga couldn't perhaps see Ryoma and Dan right now, but he could feel both of their stares at the back of his skull. That wouldn't do. If Akutsu wasn't going to clarify his words, Ryoga would make him do that, and he wasn't about to risk getting the kids in danger again. "...You two wait here." Not even waiting for any confirmation from Ryoma and Dan, he grasped on the boy's arm, then started dragging him aside. Akutsu very quickly snatched his arm away, but followed nonetheless.

"Okay. What the Hell was that?" Ryoga hissed as they were some distance away from the kids. "We've caused no trouble to anyone. Just because you're jealous is no reason to start harrassing my brother. It's not like he'll steal your precious kouhai off to America or anything, after all."

Akutsu didn't look at him, his eyes instead locked at the two boys over Ryoga's shoulder. For a moment, he was silent. Then, just as Ryoga was about to ask him again for an explanation, Akutsu finally spoke, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. "The kid's parents have been giving him crap," he said quietly. "Well, most of his relatives, really. About him not looking enough like his father or something." His eyes finally turned to Ryoga, cold and sharp in their intensity. "I won't let any damn brat come up and start any more idiotic rumours that will make others whisper about him, too. And I don't care if said brat happens to be your brother. If he's going to cause Taichi trouble, mean it or not, I'm damn well making him regret it."

Well. Way to make his stomach lurch, there. Nevertheless, Ryoga forced himself to calm down. No reason to get all panicky because of some freak occurrence. "It's no reason to act like a damn idiot, yourself," Ryoga said with a low voice. "You obviously scared the poor kid, and I don't mean Ryoma, now. Maybe you mean well, but the way you go about it is definitely wrong for acting protective." It might have been almost cute, if it hadn't been directed at his precious little brother.

"I don't mean well or badly," grumbled Akutsu, his eyes again flickering towards the boys behind Ryoga. "I just don't want the kid to start wailing at me if things get worse."

Ryoga sighed. Now what to do? "...Look," he said. "I was born with no idea who my father is, and I've gotten all kinds of Hell for it in my life. I should hope neither me nor Chibisuke would go around deliberatedly making anyone else go through that."

"Never said it was deliberate," Akutsu replied, his tone equally quiet. "Just those two sitting next to each other is bad enough."

"You think I don't know?" Ryoga hissed. "But sorry to say, Chibisuke likes playing tennis, and the kid's a tennis player. I can't exactly keep them apart."

"At least he shouldn't be horsing around making Taichi wear his stuff." Akutsu rolled his eyes. "Look, I've nothing against your brother except he's an insufferable brat who's far too smug for his own good. As long as he doesn't cause trouble for Taichi, I'm not going to rip him a new one."

"Ryoma's not causing trouble," Ryoga sighed. "Not like he can just change his face or something."

"As I said... he can't help that, but he can help where he puts his damn cap." Akutsu looked over Ryoga's shoulder again, raising his voice. "...Oi, Taichi. You don't have to go get that."

Turning around, Ryoga saw Dan fishing Ryoma's cap out of the tree Akutsu had managed to fling it to. "Yes I do," he replied. "It's not like I can just leave it lying there or make Echizen-kun get it, and since you're certainly not about to..." His fingers just barely didn't reach the cap even as he tried to jump for it. Grumbling something inaudible to himself, he started circling the tree until he found a branch to get a hold of to haul himself higher into the tree.

With a few quick, long strides, Akutsu was suddenly by his side, an arm easily hooking around the boy's waist and pulling him away from the tree. "You'll just fall and break your neck," Akutsu said harshly, setting Dan down on the ground before he reached up to take the cap. Tossing it towards Ryoma, he snapped, "And keep it away from Taichi."

"Sure thing, lover boy." Ryoma smirked even as he caught the cap and put it back on your head. "Wouldn't want to contest your claim on him."

The remark made Dan flush and Akutsu frown in anger, not that he had seemed to be doing much else before, mind. "Look, if you want to fight..."

"I think it's best if none of us do anything even resembling fighting," Ryoga sighed. Finally, he actually got to get a taste of his own drink. "If you two have something against each other, take it to the court." It certainly seemed like Ryoma's basic solution to everything. Brother needs comfort? Play tennis. Feeling bored? Play tennis. Want to check out a guy with suspicious amounts of resemblance? Play tennis. Some day, he'd probably manage to put a love confession in the form of a tennis match, considering how it seemed to be the substitute for all other communication and human relation for him. ...Not to say he wasn't good at it, of course.

"Okay." Ryoma seemed a bit too eager for this, considering he had just finished a match. Not that he had exactly been pushed to his limits, but still. "You up for it, lover boy?"

"Che. Bring it on." Akutsu smirked self-confidently. "Oi, Taichi. I'll borrow your racquet."

"Feel free desu," Dan said, nodding towards his bag. "Your usual one's on the right side."

"...He has a 'usual one' among your racquets?" Ryoga asked, somewhat bemused, as he settled himself next to Dan to watch the match. The courts had all been taken just a moment before, but apparently Akutsu had managed to scare one pair of players away with little more than a glare. Ryoga had again been given referee duty, but that didn't mean he couldn't chat a bit. "That's... unusual."

"Yeah, well, Akutsu-senpai's kind of... special." Dan chuckled a bit. He seemed immediately relaxed now that the previous incident was over with. "He keeps saying he doesn't like tennis, so he never keeps his own racquet with him... well, unless he specifically goes out to challenge someone without me around, but that's quite rare. Usually he just snatches one of mine desu." His lips curled in a manner all too reminiscent of Ryoma's more mischievous moods. "I wonder how long it takes for him to realize the tension and weight in that one are all wrong for me."

"Well," Ryoga mused, looking out to the court where the two were starting to play in a manner somewhat more vicious than the start of Ryoma's match with Dan, "he might already know." At Dan's puzzled glance, he just shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing." Nothing, except he was rather starting to suspect Ryoma's teasing had hit a bit too close to home for Akutsu to tolerate it. Not like he knew much about the thuggish boy, of course, but something in the way he looked at Dan was just... peculiar. Or the way his fist almost reflexively lowered when the boy stood in the way. It would have been almost cute, really, if it hadn't led him to be so violent in his protectiveness.

"You're Echizen-kun's brother, right?" Dan asked after a moment that had passed in silence aside from the calls of a point or two here and there. "That's funny. I never knew he had a brother."

"Yeah, well, we're kind of a funny family," Ryoga admitted. To say the least. "I also never lived here in Japan, so it's not like it's immediately obvious or anything." He shook his head. Indeed not. If one looked at the official papers, they even had no blood relation whatsoever. "You're about Ryoma's age, right? He said something about you thinking you're too small to play..."

Dan flushed slightly. "Yeah, well, obviously he proved me wrong by defeating Akutsu-senpai," he said. Ryoga wasn't entirely sure which one of the currently playing boys the pure admiration in his voice was reserved for. "But yes, I'm Echizen-kun's age... actually, we were born just a week apart," he added.

"How do you know --" Ryoga paused. What was it Ryoma had said? "...Oh. Data player."

"Yeah... sorry." Dan grinned a bit. "Most people prefer just not to ask... or, sometimes, just not to think about it desu." He tilted his head. "I'm younger than Echizen-kun, though... that entire week." An entire week later was far too early. The last bit of the proof Nanjirou had presented. March would have been pushing the limits of credibility in his theory of a third brother; January was just plain impossible. The world sure did have some strange coincidences.

"You're quite a bit shorter than him, though." Again, he paused. "...I mean, sorry if it's a sensitive thing or something, but... I'm just so used to Chibisuke being small compared with me, it kinda amazes me to see someone so close to his age being obviously shorter." Though Ryoma had grown in the last year, so he supposed the difference hadn't been that big when the two had first met. ...Assuming Dan hadn't also grown.

"Don't worry, I'm rather used to it." Dan tilted his head to the side even as he continued to watch the tennsi match. "I've always been the smallest everywhere... in my class, in the tennis club, everywhere. Sure it's annoying sometimes, but not like I can help it." He shrugged. "Mom blames it on me being a preemie. Suppose it makes as much sense as anything else desu. She's certainly doing her best to feed me..."

...Wait, what? "You were a preemie?" Ryoga echoed. "As in, born prematurely?" ...The world sure hated him.

"Yeah, I was." Dan nodded. "Over two months ahead of time... I've seen some pictures of myself when I was just born. I was really awfully tiny." He shook his head, chuckling. "I suppose I should be glad I ever grew even this big... even though..." His voice trailed off, the cheerful expression turning serious again.

"Yes?" Ryoga prompted. "Even though?"

"...It's nothing," Dan murmured. "Forget about it desu."

"It's not nothing if it bothers you," Ryoga pointed out, turning briefly to call out the end of a game for the two before returning to his conversation with Dan. "Hey, come on. I'll be leaving for America soon enough, not like I can spread it to anyone who knows you. And it might help to talk about it, whatever it is." Though he might decide to stay here instead... probably not, but it was still a possibility. Either way, he wasn't about to spread any secrets just because he could.

"It's just... some of my relatives say it's not right," Dan sighed. "That there's never been anyone so badly premature in my father's family, so..." He shook his head. "It's nothing. It's just something silly."

"If they're giving you pain for it, it's not silly." Ryoga reached out to ruffle Dan's hair. He just couldn't help it. It was so much like Ryoma's hair... though Ryoma's hair had almost a greenish tint to it in light, while Dan's was more blue-black. "They're being stupid, anyway. It's not like something like that always runs in families." He managed to put a teasing grin on his face. "Maybe you just decided to be born early so you could still get in the same school year as Ryoma," he joked. "Just so you could see his match and realize that you can play tennis, too."

"Heh, maybe!" Dan's expression brightened immediately. He really was pretty whimsical in his moods. Not that Ryoga was complaining; he did love Ryoma as dearly as anyone could ever love such a little sourpuss, but sometimes he just wasn't cute at all with all his snarkiness. "Do you play tennis, too, Ryoga-san?"

"I thought I told you drop the 'san'," Ryoga commented idly, then added, "Sort of. I mean, I do play it, and I like playing it, but I don't drink and breathe tennis like Chibisuke and our old man." Well. Like Chibisuke, anyway. Nanjirou... was slacking off, nowadays. "Guess I'll just have to look for my big dream elsewhere, eh?" He glanced to the side. "Fifteen-love," he called out.

"Big dream?" Dan blinked, big brown eyes looking at him curiously. Oh, yes, definitely cuter than Ryoma. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's kind of simple but kind of not," Ryoga chuckled. "Could be a long story if I got off track."

"That's okay," Dan said, smiling. "I like stories." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "If you don't mind telling it, that is..."

Ryoga laughed. "Nah... it's nice to talk to someone who doesn't interrupt me mid-sentence like Chibisuke." Then he leant back against the upper row of the stands, starting to tell the kid a story about fresh oranges, two little boys, and a man who loved tennis.

*

"...You know, old man," Ryoga said, staring at the ceiling of the living room as he lay on the couch, "you really are a bastard sometimes." While Nanako had been very gracious about taking them in, the house did technically belong to Nanjirou after all, she had apparently decided to flee the noise and smell of three men suddenly taking over her house and gone to visit her friend for a few days. This meant a lack of witty comments involving Ryoga's supposed interest for her from Nanjirou and lots of take-out. It also meant Ryoga had absolutely no reason to be careful with his words as he decided to finally make the truth known.

"Oh?" Nanjirou raised his eyebrows lazily, not moving in any other manner aside from sinking his chopsticks again and again into his dinner. Ryoga thought it was really kind of ironic he was having Chinese while they were in Japan. "And what makes you say that this time? You really are not cute at all, Ryoga... both you and Ryoma are so damn uncute, I really don't know where I went wrong with you."

"Apparently, being around, not that I'd have ever thought you could be caught doing too much of that." Ryoga threw him a glare. "The kid you had no hand in raising certainly turned out to be cute enough."

"What?" Nanjirou frowned. "Look, I think I already told you –"

"That you visited Japan in the beginning of June that year. I know. I talked with the Dan kid today; he was born in early January." Ryoma had found an escape from the take-out and announced he was going over to some friend of his for dinner. Ryoga was glad for that; he didn't want Chibisuke get needlessly involved in this, too.

"See? That's only six months later. It's impossible for him to be mine, whatever else you insinuate." Nanjirou huffed. "Don't see what you're calling me a bastard for."

"You didn't let me finish." Ryoga raised his hand to silence his father. "He was born in January… over two months premature."

Nanjirou didn't say anything.

"He seriously looks like Chibisuke, too." Ryoga rolled over to his side to glare at Nanjirou. "And I watched him play. There's no way all that was just copied and learnt. He's got natural instinct for it. And I think I know where he's got it from."

"Even if it were true that he's my son," Nanjirou raised his chopsticks as though to make a point, "which I'm not saying it is, mind… well, what do you want me to do? Obviously the kid's growing up well and happy all without my damn influence. He's ended up in tennis, too. If his mother's never tried to contact me, whoever she is, then obviously it's better for me to stay out of the mess, especially since it's still just all speculation."

"But speculation's the worst." Ryoga shook his head slowly. "Chibisuke… he was joking around, made Dan wear his cap. All of a sudden one of Dan's senpai came up and started raging about how he doesn't want anyone to cause trouble for Dan. Apparently it's a disaster if anyone else notices they look the same."

"All the more reason for me to stay away, eh?" Nanjirou chewed rather viciously on a piece of chicken, swallowing it before he continued, "Ryoga… I've already messed up the lives of two boys. I'm soon going to mess them both up even more, and I can't do a damn thing about it. I refuse to drag another kid into my own disaster of a life, regardless of how probable it is that he might be another one of my biological offspring."

"You already have, though." As Nanjirou gave him a questioning gaze, Ryoga finally pushed himself up, sitting properly on the couch. "You know why that senpai of his was being so irrational? Well, aside from the fact he obviously has a bad temper…" As Nanjirou shook his head, he continued, "Dan's relatives are giving him trouble… by saying he's not his father's kid. Neither Dan nor his senpai would tell much about it, but apparently his parents are fighting about it, too." He shook his head. "Look… I know you think you have it hard. I know you don't want to make any more of a mess of your life. But… I know what it's like to be that kid." He sighed, looking down at his hands. "Even I could tell that he's confused, and I don't even know him. He's wondering if it's true, if his father really isn't, well, his father. He's probably wondering who and where his real father is, if not Dan-san." He raised his eyes at Nanjirou. "And you know the worst part?" Nanjirou shook his head again, expressionless. "I had my Mom. Mom kept telling me about you, how you were a great but busy man, how you couldn't be there but at least you were helping by sending money. His mom isn't telling him any of that. His mom is crying while his father yells at them both, or screaming back at his father."

Nanjirou was silent for a long while, shifting in his arm chair. "And what do you want me to do, then?" he finally asked, his tone unusually serious. "Swoop down like some vulture and possibly confirm all those suspicions? Even if it was verified that he's not mine, after that, the accusations would never stop. And even if it turned out that he is mine… well, then what? You know my situation." He shook his head. "It wouldn't be any fairer to the kid, anyway."

"That's the problem. I don't even know." Ryoga's hands clenched into fists. "I know it might just make the situation worse… Damn it, I just don't know!" His voice rose into a yell before he dropped it almost into a whisper. "I just don't want any other kid to have to bear all those stares and whispers just because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

"…Ryoga." His father was looking at him seriously.

"…Sorry," he mumbled. He half meant the apology, half… not. He was sorry to have said something so obviously out of line… but he still meant every word.

"…No. You're right." Nanjirou put his food aside, standing up and stretching bit. "I've made a number of mistakes in my life… but at least most of them are just my mistakes." He grimaced. "When I start messing up other people's lives… well, maybe it's time I start correcting those mistakes."

"Then what are you going to do?" Ryoga asked quietly. After all, the battle did seem quite impossible to win…

"In all honesty? I don't know." Nanjirou gave him a grin full of his usual bravado, the kind he usually reserved for tennis. "But you know what?" He winked. "…I'm going to find out."

It really shouldn't have been reassuring in the slightest, but… somehow, Ryoga almost felt better.


	4. Epilogue: Will

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.

A/N: And we're done. See, I finish something every now and then!

It's really too bad this is a rewrite so I couldn't change the end result... I really loved writing Nanjirou here.

* * *

Sons of a Samurai

_Epilogue  
_

Will

Setting down the phone, Nanjirou sighed. He had told Ryoga he would do something, but actually accomplishing that was not exactly as easy. He'd pulled some strings, most of them connected to Banji, to get the kid's home number. It had been frighteningly easy when he'd told he wanted to pull a prank on the old hag Ryuuzaki and needed the kid's help. But then, Banji had always been frightening in some manner or another. Now he'd made his call and... well. The voice at the other end had been vaguely familiar. The name had been even more so, when he'd asked for her maiden name instead of the married name. Maybe his sons weren't exactly as far off in their silly speculations as he'd thought... certainly, the woman had recognized his name as well. Kind of a big indicator, that. In any case, he'd gotten things moving. Hopefully it was in the right direction.

Much though he was a bastard, he sincerely did hope he wasn't just about to drag yet another kid deeper into his big, dirty mess of a life. Not that said mess was going to drag on all that long, anymore.

He knew Ryoma was starting to suspect something. Of course, even if the boy had asked him, he wouldn't have admitted anything. It wasn't like he could, anyway. Not to Ryoma. Not to his little boy.

He supposed it was kind of unfair, keeping such a big secret from the boy for so long. But then, what else could he have done about it? What could he have said? "Oh, by the way, son, you know the way I've trained you pretty much since crib so you'd be a better player than me some day? Well, afraid that's going to happen pretty soon, but not because you're reaching your peak, it's because I'm going to die on you." Yeah, right, that would go down so very well. He could already see Ryoma jumping with glee at such joyous news.

He heard sounds from the front door. "...Old man?" Well, speak of the devil. He made some non-committal grunt in response to let the boy know exactly where in the house he was hiding. "You know where Ryoga is?"

"Who knows?" he shouted back. Ryoga had gone somewhere while he had been on the phone; he'd said something about where he was going but Nanjirou hadn't really been paying that much attention. "And what kind of time this is to get home?"

"Get bent, it's not even that late." Ryoma walked into the living room. "And you're kinda supposed to know where your kids are, especially if you consider this too late for me to come home."

"Well, Ryoga's older than you. He's a big boy already. It's not like he's going to fall into a ditch while playing with a boat or something." If only that were the biggest concern he had for his sons. The world was such a rotten place nowadays, with all kind of murderers and criminals and people like himself lurking at every corner. Too bad he couldn't just lock both boys at an indoor tennis court and be done with it.

"Nah, he only got swept into the sea once while playing on a boat, instead." Ryoma shook his head. "You're really a useless father, you know."

"I know," he replied cheerfully, without any hint of shame in his voice. He really should have taken up acting, instead. Or maybe learnt to actually show his shame, instead. Not sure what good it would have done to him, though. "And you're disrespectful and bratty, so it all evens out, see? That reminds me, I think Ryoga went to that little store you always bought candy from when we still lived here. Said he wanted some oranges and wasn't going to let the hour stop him." He shook his head. "I just hope he can find his way there... Silly boy and his obsessions."

"You just said he's a big boy, isn't he?" There was a momentary silence. Nanjirou didn't exactly feel like breaking it. "...Oi, old man." Ryoma looked at him seriously. "Play with me."

"I don't want to," Nanjirou whined, slouching deeper in his very comfy armchair. "I just ate and everything. Ask your brother to play with you when he gets home."

"I bet you didn't 'just eat,' you're just being lazy," Ryoma snapped. "You'd probably already eaten long before I got home." Well, at least his food had been gone from its container by then. "Get up and out."

"It's too dark outside by now." A lame excuse, but still. He had to try, didn't he?

"That's why you got the court lights." ...Damn, true.

"You're so cruel, boy," sighed Nanjirou, throwing his hands up in the air. "If I die from stomach cramps because you forced me to play right after a meal, it'll be on your conscience!"

"Yeah, well, never stopped you before." Ryoma frowned. No good. Ryoma frowning was never good, most definitely not when he was frowning at Nanjirou himself.

"Yeah, yeah... just give me a moment to collect my frail old bones." Shaking his head, he walked outside after Ryoma, only pausing to snatch a racquet by the door. It was one of his old ones; apparently Nanako-chan hadn't even gotten rid of it. The tension was probably all wrong, but, well, it would do. Not like his choice of a racquet had ever made that much of a difference while playing against Ryoma, anyway.

It didn't make any difference this time, either. He could have had the best racquet in the world and it wouldn't have helped him. He'd known Ryoma had gotten better in the last few months during which they hadn't really played any serious matches against each other, but he hadn't expected it to be this much. It was all he could do to just keep the boy from completely pulverizing him.

Neither of them was really keeping count of the score anyway, they never had, though usually it was because it was so obvious that Ryoma was losing and now it was almost the opposite. At the end of it they were both lying on the court, looking up to the darkening sky, and much though he hated to admit it Nanjirou was the one breathing harder.

He didn't even notice the soft steps until Ryoma was standing right above him. "...Oi, old man."

"Hm?" He somehow managed a grin as he looked up at his son. "Come to mock your fallen father? So arrogant, you young people nowadays..."

"Old man." Ryoma went down on one knee next to him, looking at him seriously. "...What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Nanjirou echoed with what he hoped was a suitably cheerful tone. "Why don't you tell me? It certainly seems you and Ryoga usually have the answer." He shook his head, tsk-ing a bit. "The young of today, absolutely no respect to the elderly..."

"...I'm serious." Slowly, Ryoma sat down on the court, legs crossed at ankles. "A match like that shouldn't make you even break a sweat."

"I told you I didn't want to play," Nanjirou replied. "I'm tired and I've just eaten. First you push me so far and then tell me I can't even be tired for it? Such a cruel son I've brought to this world... I'll never forgive myself for this transgression!"

"Stop being dramatic and answer me, old man." Ryoma's tone was more serious than usual. This was the tone he had used when he'd asked his father if he was sure Karupin would come back home safe and sound when the cat had first wandered off. Nanjirou hadn't been able to answer him then, either... or when he had asked the same about Ryoga. The boy always had the most difficult questions, didn't he? Silly boy...

"...You know," he said after a moment of silence, looking up to the sky, "it's really great to be in Japan again." Ryoma opened his mouth, probably to protest at his apparently not answering the question, but Nanjirou raised his hand to silence him. "But you know," he continued, "this might be my last time."

Now, Ryoma's eyes flew wide. Well. He'd known he shouldn't say it. This would only lead to a disaster.

"...What do you mean?" There, that was exactly what he had expected. That vulnerable tone that followed the serious one. He didn't like this tone of voice at all, not coming from his son. He didn't know how to handle it. "Old man..." Well, he supposed a tennis match would have been an appropriate approach, but it wasn't like he could do that now, could he? Not while lying breathless on the court. Damn it. Damn his ill and frail body for betraying him.

"You're a good boy, you know," Nanjirou said. Why, yes, he was avoiding the subject. "A bit bratty, yes, but a good boy anyway. Amazingly good, considering it was me who raised you. You could probably very well handle yourself here in Japan with Ryoga looking after you." He paused. "You probably will, when you move here." It was a good plan, after all, if Ryoma really wanted to be in Japan. Just… not one he wanted to see happening just yet.

"Stop playing around, old man!" Ryoma protested. "What the Hell's wrong with you?"

"Many things," he replied, his tone light. It was easier to keep this light. Easier for him, certainly, and hopefully easier for Ryoma. Neither of them was exactly big on all that introspection and mourning stuff. Better handle things in the most practical fashion possible. "I'm a pervert and a bastard and a liar, and, yes, a cheater. And as it so happens..." he hesitated. Even if he was playing it almost as a joke, it still wasn't easy to say aloud. Not to Ryoma. Not to his little boy. "I also have leukaemia."

Ryoma set his racquet on the ground very, very slowly. "...Old man..."

"Not the kind you usually see in TV or something, you know, the one that can be cured and all. I've got the slow type, have had for a few years. There's usually not much treatment done until the end part; it's not really all that vicious. At best, people die of old age before they die of it." He shook his head. "No such luck for me. It's advanced pretty rapidly now all of a sudden. Not much they can do to stop it."

"...How long?" He could almost see Ryoma swallowing, except he wasn't looking at his son. He supposed it was enough that he knew about it, anyway. So predictable. He certainly hoped Ryoma wasn't getting this predictable on the courts or he'd be in

"Best guess? Maybe a year." Finally, Nanjirou turned his gaze at Ryoma. "I wasn't saying you couldn't come to Japan just to be cruel, you know. What little treatment there's to do, I've been getting in America... and, well, didn't exactly want you to be on the other side of an ocean while I'm dying." Perhaps he wasn't the best of fathers, but that didn't mean he didn't care about his sons at all. And yes, he was selfish enough to want to keep at least his younger little darling close to himself as long as he could. Ryoga was already slipping from his grasp, had been for years… but at least Ryoma was still his little son, however quickly he was growing out of it.

Ryoma didn't say anything now, just looked at him. It made Nanjirou feel really uneasy. Ryoma was supposed to always have something to say to him, even if it was just calling him an idiot.

"...Oi, don't look like I just kicked your cat or something," he said, finally pushing himself up to sit on the ground, too. "It's life, you know? People are born, with or without fathers, and other people die, with or without sons. Don't worry your little head too much with it."

"How can you say that?" Ryoma snapped, and Nanjirou could have sworn he saw tears in the boy's eyes. Huh. Weird. Sometimes he could have sworn the boy didn't even know how to cry, anymore. "You -- you're dying! How can you tell me not to worry?"

"Because worrying won't do a damn thing for me, maybe?" Nanjirou shrugged. "There's nothing I or anyone else can do about it. With some luck, the treatments will give me more time. With really bad luck, I'll be gone before you know it." He patted the boy's head because the cap was in the way of ruffling his hair. "You'll live, boy. I know you will."

"...But you won't." Ryoma looked awfully young, now. Sometimes it was so easy to forget he was really just thirteen years old. "Old man... what am I supposed to do?"

"What I've always told you to do." Nanjirou paused. "Well, no. What I've always told you to do is to play tennis. What I told you to do at least often enough for Ryoga to remember it." He chuckled. That boy was another weird kid... but then, they were both his, weren't they. "Tennis is a big dream that opens up to a bigger world..." His lips curled a bit. "You go and find a big dream, too."

"...Way to get all philosophical on me. Stupid." Ryoma wiped his eyes almost angrily. "Seriously. What are we going to do?"

"Seriously? We stay here and watch the nationals," Nanjirou replied quite simply. "And, just to placate Ryoga, I'll find out for sure if the Dan kid is mine or not. Need to know who to write down on my will, after all." Ryoma grimaced again, but Nanjirou smirked at him. "I told you, don't look like that... then we'll go back to America, I'll put my affairs in order, enjoy some more warmth... and when I'm not weighing down on your narrow little shoulders anymore, you can move back to Japan with Ryoga." He paused. "I suppose the Dan kid can move in with you, too, if he really is mine and he wants to. It's really Ryoga's call, though. I'm leaving the house to him." And the one in America to Ryoma. Maybe he should buy a new house, just in case Dan did turn out to be his. Heh. House-shopping would certainly be one viable way of passing his time now that he couldn't just play tennis whenever he wished. Damn his ailing body.

"How can you just make everything into a joke?" Ryoma asked quietly, angrily. "Don't you take everything seriously?"

"Boy... I take everything seriously." Nanjirou winked at him. "Everything… and nothing. Makes living that much easier, you know?" He finally pushed himself up to his feet, stretching. "It's getting kind of chilly… wonder if Ryoga's back with those oranges yet."

"I got back a while ago, actually." The sudden voice startled them both. Turning to look, they saw Ryoga standing at the edge of the court. "Catch." He tossed two orange objects towards them, one to each. Nanjirou's catch was more a reflex than anything. At least he wasn't holding his racquet anymore, or he might have just as well hit it. It was small and round and coming at him through the air, after all… It was safe in his hand now, though, and from the corner of his eye he could see Ryoma hadn't done anything untoward to his own fruit, either.

"…How long have you been there?" Though he wasn't sure if that really mattered, anyway. He hadn't said anything Ryoga hadn't known already.

"Long enough." Ryoga eyed them both a bit warily even as he raised the last orange he was holding, bringing it up to his mouth. "…About time you told him." He shrugged. "Should have told me sooner, too."

"Hard to do when you're never home," scoffed Nanjirou. "…For what you care, I managed to contact Dan's mother."

"And?" Ryoga raised his eyebrows. Such an annoying habit, really.

"…It's still not out of the realm of possibility." Nanjirou sighed at the tiny smirk, then frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you not to eat the damn peels?" Honestly. He'd been lecturing about that since the first time Ryoga had managed to get an orange down from a tree all by himself. As Nanjirou remembered, he'd skinned his knee in the process. At least back then, the kids had been somewhat cute. But then, back then they had actually classified as kids, not… young men. Even Ryoma was soon going to be taller than him. Where was this world going to?

"Gee, I dunno. Probably until I finally decide to listen to you." Ryoga licked a drop of orange juice from his lips. So messy, really. Where had the boy learned such manners from? …Him, most probably, but at least Nanjirou didn't bite right through the peel so he still reserved the right to judge. Besides, didn't fathers always have the right to judge their sons?

"Oh, come on. We all know I won't live long enough for that." Nanjirou started to peel his orange, then paused as he noticed both his sons staring at him with almost forlorn expressions. "…What? I'm not allowed to say anything about life anymore?" He hadn't even meant to refer to his condition, honestly. It was merely a joke about just how well his sons listened to him, ie. not at all if they only could help it.

"Well, you've got to allow us some adjustment," Ryoga pointed out. "It's not every day you hear your father's going to die."

"You didn't hear it today, though, so shoo." Though Ryoga probably did have a point. He supposed he certainly wouldn't have been joking if he'd heard one of his sons was about to die… and besides, he'd already had years to get used to the thought. They'd had no warning whatsoever. "…It's not like I'm going to drop dead on you right now, though."

"We know that much," Ryoma snapped. "But eventually, you're going to."

"Everyone's going to die eventually, boy." Nanjirou shook his head. "Worry not, though… I'll be sure to warn you beforehand if I suddenly decide to go for the acute euthanasia option."

"Acute euthanasia option?" Ryoga echoed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well…" Nanjirou found a smirk creeping onto his face once again. "If worse comes to worst, someone will have to tell Rinko that I've got a son who's younger than Ryoma…" That would certainly be close to a suicide. She'd forgiven him for a lot, but…

"Hey, at least I'd get to be the big brother for once." There. There it was, finally, peeking through Ryoma's still remaining tears. The true and tried Echizen survival strategy of bad jokes and sarcasm. At least his sons would pull through, even if he didn't.

Somehow, the thought was reassuring.

(S)

The letter was found some time after Nanjirou's death, while they were going through his things. There was no seal on it, no official signatures, yet there was no mistaking its authenticity. Certainly nobody questioned it upon reading it.

_"To those whom it may concern,_

_Yes, Ryoma, even you, even if you aren't actually literally concerned,_

_To all of you, I would like to say sorry, and thank you._

_Rinko, thank you for putting up with me all these years, and sorry for all the heartbreak I've caused. You're the best woman in the world. I should know; I've probably slept with most of them._

_Ryoga, thank you for always being ready to put me back in my place. More often than not, I've needed it. I'm sorry for making your childhood such a pain you had to get away from me. You may not believe me, but while you were gone, not a day passed that I didn't worry about you. I'm glad to see you growing into such a fine young man even despite my influence. I still say you should finish school, though._

_Ryoma, thank you for working so hard on realizing my dream, whether or not it was truly your dream as well. I'm sorry you never got to defeat me at my highest. I'm sure that would have been a glorious match, one to be retold for the ages. Guess you'll just have to go on and kick ass without me. Know that I'll be cheering for you, whether you want it or not._

_Taichi… thank you for forgiving me. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but however selfish this makes me, I refuse to call you a mistake despite whatever pain I might have caused you and your mother. For all that, I apologize, deep from my heart. I'm glad I got to know you. I trust you to keep Ryoma on his toes on the court one day. (Though I still don't like that Akutsu boy. I really thought he was going to kill me when he found out. Put a leash on him for me, would you? In the non-dirty sense, please. Unless you really want to, in which case you have my blessing. You can't be more perverted than me, in any case.)_

_I'm a bastard, I admit it. I've done a lot of bad things in my life, and at one point or another, I've hurt just about everyone I hold dear. And for all my sins, life has chosen to reward me with not one, but three fine sons, and the most beautiful, charming, forgiving wife to ever grace the Earth with her glorious presence. Life may not be fair, but for my part, I find no cause to complain about the end result. Maybe the end came sooner than for most, but that's what you get for living fast._

_I'm not good with the philosophical stuff, or so Ryoma tells me, so I'll just tell you to live full, and live well. Learn from my mistakes, but don't repeat them. (Unless you just can't resist, in which case, at least try to be careful. And Rinko, don't glare at me like that. It's not appropriate to be angry at the dead.)_

_I'm not much of a role model, as you all know, so my final piece of advice will be from someone much wiser (and bustier) than myself. So, as Ryuuzaki Sumire once said – go give them Hell. (And find your big dreams, while you are at it.)_

_Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm curious to see what kind of a bounce I can get from a cloud._

_Nanjirou Echizen  
The Samurai"_

His actual will had been safe with his personal attorney, much more precise and adherent to general propriety, detailing very clearly just how the rather considerable wealth he had gathered during his professional career was to be divided between his wife and his all three sons. However, none of them held it quite as dear as this little letter from beyond the grave.

However, as neither the will nor the letter could indisputably point any one of the three boys as the only successor of the name of the Samurai, there was still some dispute left among them. As the subject came up Ryoga immediately claimed it was naturally his, by right of being oldest, Ryoma said it was his, as Nanjirou had trained him the longest and the closest, and before Dan could even get a single word out Akutsu had already pointed out for him that he was the only one of them who was actually Japanese and thus in any way deserving of the name of Samurai.

As they finally decided to settle the argument through tennis, somewhere, surely, Nanjirou was smiling. And making popcorn.

His sons were standing on the stage, now, and heading towards the greatest of stages, the one on which he had stood once before. He was now the audience.

And was it ever a great show.


End file.
